"Darlin'...I know what you look like when you've been kissed."

I couldn't say anything. The tiny muscles of my face twitched with guilt, my eyes turned wet with a pleading glister.

Gage surveyed me without emotion. In a moment he pulled his cell phone from inside his jacket and said a few words to the limo driver about meeting us out front.

"We're going?" I asked around the spiky ball in my throat.

"Yes."

We went around the side of the house instead of going through it. My Lucite heels sounded brittle on the pavement. Gage made another call as we walked. "Jack. Yeah, it's me. Liberty's got a headache. Too much champagne. We're heading home, so if you could say something to...Right. Thanks. And try to keep an eye on Dad." Jack made some comment, and Gage laughed shortly. "Figures. Later." He closed the phone and replaced it in his jacket.

"Is Churchill okay?" I asked.

"He's fine. But Vivian's pissed because of all the women hitting on him."

That almost made me smile. Without thinking I reached for Gage as my heel hit an uneven patch in the pavement. Immediately he took hold of me, his arm fitting across my back as we continued to walk. Even though I knew Gage was furious, he wasn't going to let me fall.

We got into the limo, the plush dark cocoon insulating us from the noise and activity of the party. I was a little worried about being closed away in there with Gage. It hadn't been that long ago that I'd been exposed to the lash of his anger, on the day I'd moved into the mansion. Although I'd managed to stand up to him, it wasn't something I was eager to go through again.

Gage spoke casually to the driver. "Phil, drive us around for a while. I'll let you know

when to head downtown."

"Yes, sir."

Gage flicked a few buttons, locking the privacy screen in place, opening the minibar. If he was angry, I couldn't tell. He was relaxed, sort of scary-calm, which was beginning to seem worse than shouting. He took out a highball glass, poured himself a finger of hard liquor, and downed it without seeming to taste it. Silently he poured another shot and offered it to me. I took it gratefully, hoping the alcohol would thaw me out. I was freezing. I tried to down the drink as quickly as Gage had. but it burned my throat and made me sputter.

"Easy," Gage murmured, settling an impersonal hand on my back. Feeling the goose bumps on my skin, he took off his jacket and settled it around me. I was wrapped in the soft silk-lined fabric, warm from his body.

"Thanks," I wheezed.

"No problem." A lengthy pause. The sudden cold-steel impact of his gaze made me flinch. "Who is he'1"

In my rambling stories of my childhood, all the details about Mama and my friends. everyone and everything in Welcome, I hadn't once mentioned Hardy. I'd talked to Churchill about him, but I hadn't yet been able to bring myself to do the same with Gage.

Trying to keep my voice steady, I told him about Hardy, that I had known him since I was fourteen.. .that aside from my mother and sister, he'd been the most important person in

the world to me. That I'd loved him.

It was so strange, talking to Gage about Hardy. My past and my present colliding. And it made me realize how different the Liberty Jones from the trailer park was from the woman I'd become. I needed to think about that. I needed to think about a lot of things.

"Did you sleep with him?" Gage asked.

"I wanted to," I admitted. "I would have. But he wouldn't. He said it would make it impossible for him to leave me. He had ambitions."

"Ambitions that didn't include you."

"We were both too young. Neither of us had anything. As things turned out, it was for the best. Hardy couldn't have pursued his goals with me hanging like a millstone around his neck. And I could never have left Carrington."

I had no idea how much Gage had read in my expressions, gestures, the razor-thin spaces between my words. All I knew was that as I talked, I felt something cracking, an inflexible mettle breaking like ice over moving water, and Gage trampled through it ruthlessly.

"So you loved him, he left you. and now he wants another shot."

"He didn't say that."

"He didn't have to," Gage said flatly. "Because it's obvious you want another shot."

I felt drained and irritable. My head was a merry-go-round. "I don't know if that's what I want."

Thin shards of light from the minibar broke his face into harsh slats. "You think you're still in love with him."

"I don't know." My eyes watered.

"Don't," Gage said, his calmness vanishing. "I'd do almost anything for you. I think I'd kill for you. But I'm not going to comfort you while you cry in my arms over another man."

I pinched the corners of my eyes with my fingers, swallowing back tears that burned like acid in my throat.

"You're going to see him again." Gage said after a while.

I nodded. "We.. .1.. .need to get things straight."

"Are you going to f**k him?"

The crude word, used to deliberate effect, was like a slap in the face. "I'm not planning to, no," I said stiffly.

"I wasn't asking if you're planning to. I'm asking if you're going to."

Now I was getting mad too. 'Wo. I don't fall into bed that easily. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that. I also know you're not the kind who goes to a party with one guy and ends up making out with another one. But you did."